


we met at a bar

by nimrodcracker



Series: i'll sleep with the stars tonight [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Aromantic Characters, Bonding Over Misery, Copious amounts of alcohol - Freeform, F/F, Femmes Supporting Femmes, Gen, Oversharing, Racism, This isn't sad I promise, bar brawls, it's just really fucking hilarious (for me at least), mentions of harrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-12 04:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrodcracker/pseuds/nimrodcracker
Summary: "Williams. As in General Williams of Shanxi.""Ryder. As in N7 Alec Ryder of illegal AI research.""Damn." That's a name Ashley knows too damn well. "Guess you know how shitty it feels to be passed over again and again for promotions and be treated like a stain on one's boots just for sharing a name," Ashley blurts.





	we met at a bar

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, i bet ryder and ashley would totally hit it off given their backstories so here it is!!

 

> _April 22, 2184_  
> 
> _3 months till Ark Hyperion departs for the Andromeda Galaxy_

Ashley likes to consider herself a woman with simple tastes.

Recite some lines over drinks, spend some time shooting targets at a rifle range, and take her to dinner - hopefully somewhere with more than halfway decent steak - and Ashley would gladly consider them a friend. Or a fun person to kill time with.

But get her into a bar fight, and she'll be smitten immediately.

That's how Ashley finds herself in the midst of whizzing shards of glass in the air, not counting the sweat, blood and bodies she has to dodge in all twenty square metres of a dive bar in the ass end of Zakera Ward. She sidesteps head tentacles, spiky leg hooks, and even the occasional tentacle lashed out - all for the marine in dress fatigues with a hell of an undercut and hair tied into a ponytail.

Truth time: letting loose isn't the only reason Ashley wholeheartedly tossed herself into a bar brawl.

Ashley isn't white. Nor is she a man. That means she gets slathered with unwanted attention from men whenever she wants to dunk her ass in drink because that's what women like her all want, yes? Sleep with everyone they see? And their resistance to such bloated sense of entitlement is what makes them feisty, right? Add a dollop of slurs one hurls at Southeast Asian women - like easily fuckable and demure - and that's how the bar devolves into chaos.

Ashley can't miss the way the marine stiffens like a board before she explodes; movement lumped into the hard point of a fist cracking against bone.

Now, countless bodies on the floor later, the bar's ambience dulls down to snatches of murmured conversation. Ashley resumes downing her shots of whiskey instead, all the while wiping sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.

There's movement to Ashley's right, followed by the sound of glass clinking on the tabletop. "Hey friend, thanks for the assist. Could've flattened the  _buto_  with my fists and biotics, but I didn't want to become the Angry, Dangerous Biotic stereotype who also happened to be a person of colour. Jackpot combination, that. Humanity's mastered space travel, yet we can't treat our own decently."

"Anything for a fellow marine." Ashley chuckles, unbothered by the monologued start to a conversation. Self-deprecating humour's right up her alley. "And we ladies of colour gotta stick together, 'cause if not, who will?"

The marine, chin now sporting a fist-shaped bruise, clinks glasses with Ashley. "Amen, sister." Humming, she empties half her glass in a single gulp that makes Ashley's eyes bug out just from looking. Has Ashley found the one who can match her glass for glass? Is this the start of a beautiful friendship?

Even better - the marine effortlessly segues to another line of conversation as she sits. "So, any chance I'll get to know the name of my gorgeous saviour?"

Was this marine  _hitting_  on her? Not that Ashley minded, just- she didn't expect it to escalate this quickly. They haven't even bought each other rounds yet. "Ashley. I'd tell you my last name, but you'd probably not want to talk to me after that."

But here Ashley is, leaning into the marine's personal space and hooked on every single word. She can't blame this on the alcohol in her veins that's making her notice how the marine smells - and it's a comforting waft of gun oil.

Incidentally, the marine leans in too, edge of her glass playfully perched on lips curled in a smirk. "Why's that?"

Gosh, that gesture's doing strange things to Ashley's stomach - all the belly flopping and lightheadedness uncharacteristic for someone she's just met.  _Embarrassing_.

"Side-effects of bearing the burden of what your great-great-grandfather did." Ashley intentionally flicks the hair out of her eyes with her free hand, cursing herself for bringing up a clearly unnecessary topic. There goes making new friends. "It's complicated."

"Try me, sister. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Ashley side-eyes the hell out of the biotic beside her, more out of surprise - but somehow, there's something about this woman that makes Ashley want to trust her. Yes, tattoo inked on the whole side of her neck and faded heat burn along her jaw notwithstanding; either of which making her the poster girl of Earth gangs roaming unusually inconspicuously in civilised society, and far from the smartly-dressed marines in the recruitment vids. Yet, Ashley finds herself already pushing her suspicions out of her mind. Honestly, why does she always have a soft spot for bad girls and biotics?

And then, the grief flares again, as she pictures mussed brown hair and a jaw sharp enough to sever tendons.

Ashley wants to smash her glass in her face. But that'll only wreck her face, so she gulps down more drink to swallow the lump in her throat. "Williams. As in General Williams of Shanxi."

"Ryder. As in N7 Alec Ryder of illegal AI research."

"Damn." That's a name Ashley knows too damn well. " _Damn_. Guess you know how shitty it feels to be passed over again and again for promotions  _and_  be treated like a shitstain on one's boots just for sharing a name," Ashley blurts. Honestly, ranting felt  _good_.

"Kinda. I'm a shitstain, but a useful kind of shitstain. Biotic, remember?" Ryder briefly glows, enough for the the blue sheen to colour her brown eyes, but Ashley doesn't startle as Ryder expects. Instead, there's an unexpected, unexplainable  _longing_  Ryder spots in Ashley's faraway look. "Brass felt having a biotic was more important than me pushed to the margins of proper society because of a shitstain of father I had. Didn't make Lieutenant after passing out from SpecForce, but got posted to Shepard's own biotic unit. Until she left, of course. But hey, what more can a girl ask for?"

It's that sort of longing that threatens to unleash a year's worth of mourning, Ashley knows, like how she knows water is wet and turians eat dextro-based foods. "You tell me, hot stuff. You're dazzling me with your achievements that I can only blink."

"Inclusion, perhaps," Ryder chuckles. She's surrounded by a absurd amount of shot glasses that Ashley wonders how much alcohol it takes to make a biotic drunk. Definitely more than Ashley's tolerance level, it seems. " _Penat ah_. I mean, I'm sick of the looks I've been given and the Alliance's half-assed promises to follow through with their anti-prejudice campaigns. Fucken assheads recognise biotics as equal in law, thanks, but why am I still treated like a walking omni-grenade or a science experiment wherever I go? Starting to believe rubbish like this won't be solved, just like how racism's still plain old racism once you rip off its spanking new layer of colourblind ideology."

"Ease up on the drinks, sister. You're going off like you're gonna burst a vein."  _But you're not wrong, though,_  Ashley muses. "But did I catch this right: you knew Shepard?"

" _Sibei_  right I do. Best damn CO I had the privilege of serving under." Curiously, Ryder breathes a sigh that can only be described as dreamy. "Just watching her in action gave me chills."

"I get what you mean. She was-" Ashley swallows "-phenomenal."

Ryder's change is instantaneous. One moment she's dunking down a filled glass that's slid her way along the bar, and in another, she's seized by laughter with spittle from her lips. "Understatement of the Milky  _fuckin'_  Way, Williams." Ryder thunks the glass down as she sinks from her high, posture following suit, but woozy grin still plastered on her face. "Have you seen how she absolutely terrorises the battlefield? And even I'm speaking as a fellow vanguard."

Through it all, Ashley sits quietly on her stool, gripping her glass tight enough to feel her bones touch the glass.

All it takes is a glance at Ashley's frigid non-smile before Ryder's smile vanishes. " _Kimak._  You're speaking from experience. You're  _that_  Ashley Williams. Of the Normandy."

"Yeah. So she was my CO too. Before-"

_"-Chief, it's an order-"_

_"-pushed me into the last escape pod-"_

_"-Normandy exploded, no survivors-"_

" _Eh._ " Ashley comes to to the sensation of biotics skimming against her skin, emanating from fingers tapping her hand. " _Takpe_." Ryder's voice is soothing, its previously raspy edge tempered by how slowly she speaks now. "It's okay. Let's change the subject. To our favourite pick-me-ups. Mine's whiskey served on rocks but today I was craving some mixed drinks. Went through the whole rainbow of colours for kicks because it's Pride month."

"I thought I was over it." Ashley sidesteps, thought not deliberately. The words crawl out of her throat like a husk; relentlessly, claws digging into flesh. "You know, since this was over a year ago?" Ashley sighs into her glass. "Clearly, I wasn't."

"Ma died over a year ago too. Saw them bury her and everything, yet I still wake up sobbing into my pillow."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better how?"

"That distilling your grief into vintage in a bottle is doing  _shit_  for your mental health. I vent to my twin brother on days when I can't breathe and I'm glad I do, because the world would be one fantastic biotic less if I didn't."

"I see a shrink," Ashley replies, terse, but Ryder is anything but convinced with her raised brows and Ashley caves. "Okay, fine.  _Was_. Wasn't like reciting street names was helpful anyway."

Ryder shrugs. "No comment. Know a friend who copes with that. Says it's grounding when they get triggered. Works when it works, I guess.  _But_  really. You can talk to me if you want. Can't promise to say intelligent things, but I swear I'll nod at appropriate times. Slap me when I don't.  _Tu sebab aku dah tidur_." Ryder blinks at Ashley's confused look, before realisation dawns. "Ah, sorry, keep slipping into my native tongue. What I mean is if I don't nod at appropriate times, it means I'm already sleeping."

 _Unbelievable,_  Ashley thinks to herself, as Ryder grins at her with a earnest enough expression that Sarah gives her whenever she's messed up. Here's a soldier many years her junior - whom she's just met - offering something beyond a hi-and-bye. Which isn't remotely sexual.

But first, Ashley motions the barkeep for a refill. "Do you always overshare? Not that I mind, just- it's a nice change to just be able to listen for once."

"Yea, I get. Like how I get that numbers are flying out of my credit account the longer I sit here."

Ashley's omnitool pings. A flick and a swipe, and the message fills the screen.

> **Ashley,**
> 
> **New assignment straight from the top. It's big. Briefing at my office. We'll be waiting.**
> 
> **Anderson.**

"Damn." Ashley types off a reply first, before rapping her knuckles on the bartop. When the bartender ambles over, she gestures at Ryder. "Her tab's on me."

"Hey, it's- it's okay, I can pay." Ryder immediately protests, complete with the hand-flapping. " _Aku t_ \- I mean, I know how crap the pay is for us grunts and I wouldn't want to burden-"

"Oh, no biggie." Ashley laughs, finding everything far funnier than it should be. "Just be around the next time I drown myself in drink, dear drinking buddy over-invested in my mental health. Or I'll call up your CO,  _Gunnery Chief_  Ryder. Your unit patch is right there on your sleeve."

"Yes Ch-" Ryder autopilots, on the verge of tumbling off her barstool, before sense catches her half-standing. "Oh.  _Oh_. So it's a date, then?"

Ashley chuckles. This stranger she just met at a bar after a fight has turned out more hilarious than she'd expected. "Never one to do things half-assed, eh?"

"Ha.  _Ha!_ " Ryder makes it a point to shake the glass in her hand at Ashley. "Anything for a pretty face. I mean, I use romantic terms ironically because personally I don't do those - just not wired that way, don't ask - but if you mean it as that then okay, sure. You're good company anyway."

Ashley snorts. "Takes two, Ryder."

"Fareeha. Ryder makes me sound like my dad and I hate that. And  _him_. But that's another story." Fareeha empties her glass and thunks that on the table. Again. "Which you can ask me about."

Ashley stands as she replies, unable to wipe the grin on her face. "I'm dying of excitement, Fareeha. But I  _really_  gotta go." Unconsciously, Ashley lays a hand on Fareeha’s shoulder. "And I'm serious about the offer of being my drinking buddy. Wouldn't hurt to know a biotic, too."

Ashley doesn't expect Fareeha to lean into her touch. Nor does she expect herself to lean in too, but they are; two ladies in a bar who sought solace at the bottom of a bottle, only to find something better.

It's the rare few things that Ashley looks forward to, in a lifetime where Shepard's vapourised into space dust. There are reports, and there are  _reports_  - but Ashley doesn't dare hope...until their ill-fated meeting on Horizon. And they do meet up for drinks, nothing more. Yet, Ashley craves them all the same, the way Horizon and meeting Shepard again rocks her from orbit once again.

Until the day Fareeha doesn't, when Ashley hears about Arks and Council races jumping to another galaxy.

**Author's Note:**

> i may have went off on injecting singlish and discourse on racism into a fun piece (wow, this passes off as fun for me ??) but ehhh, always love it when i can write in local lingo rather than prim n proper english. 
> 
> singlish is basically a mashup of english, malay, mandarin, chinese dialects, hindi, tamil... basically anything that singaporeans speak. also i hate the race discourse in my country and i guess it kinda shows. well. tfw life experiences inform your writing


End file.
